


There’s No Glory In War

by glitchingscript



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Nux Lives, Slit Lives, THEN DIES, War Boys Showing Affection, oh well, others only mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchingscript/pseuds/glitchingscript
Summary: Slit doesn’t expect to wake up, much less find his driver in a bloody heap in the wreckage of the rig.





	There’s No Glory In War

Slit wakes to a mouthful of sand and burned skin, the feeling of faux drowning overcoming him. He says a prayer and starts digging until his head finds air. There’s so much fucking sand. He begrudgingly sticks his fingers in his mouth, trying to dislodge the sand in his throat. He rasps, lungs seemingly filled with glass. 

God! Why is there so much sand!

He finally releases himself from sand prison and stands on wobbly legs. He counts his blessings as he scans the surrounding area. Hasn’t been eaten by a Buzzard yet......yet. 

Mostly scrap, but his eyes ceremoniously land on a fallen Moto-Lancer, bike intact. Slit trudges over to the man, lifting his hands into the V8. 

“Riddance.” He mumbles, the sudden pain of his missing staples setting in. 

His jaw goes slack, the staples no longer supporting the long torn muscles. He sighs, no one to talk to anyways.

His hands busy themselves with removing the Moto-Lancer from his resting place, finally lying the man on his back. He bends down and searches the man for anything useful. 

Tools, dust rag -which is now Slit’s, thank you very much- and...a canteen! He shakes it...empty. Damn. He ties the rag around his mouth and nose, no more sand mouth for Slit. 

Swinging his leg over the seat of the bike, he takes off. The engine could use some work, but it’s otherwise in good condition...as long as he doesn’t hit any major bumps. 

He rides for who knows how long, the blaring sun sets over the horizon just as he reaches he canyon. He’s met with wreckage. Huh. Someone had a party and no one invited him.

Jumping off his bike and pulling the dust rag down, he stalks closer to the war rig, eyes searching for a wife or that blasted blood bag. His eyes land on a pale, slender hand hanging out of the window of the rig. No. It couldn’t be...

It is.

He rips open the door to reveal his traitor of a driver. He grabs Nux by the throat, preparing to throw him out of the rig. There’s a pulse, faint and fluttering, under his fingers. 

Slit’s goal changes, hoping to wake Nux and give him a piece of his mind. He starts dragging the taller boy out of the rig by his arms when Nux jolts, eyes snapping open. 

Those damned blue eyes.

Slit’s anger fizzles and he lets go of his driver. Nux seems to calm, eyes dropping.

“Slit.” The boy’s voice is soft, like a pup’s.

Nux is pointing to his abdomen. 

Slit’s eyes travel down and he steps back in horror. The gear shift of the rig is embedded into Nux’s stomach, a few clicks from his left hip. 

“Oh, Nuts...”

Any lingering resent he had towards the taller boy faded completely as he presssd closer, inspecting the wound.

“S’ deep,” Nux mutters, barely audible “in the seat behind me.”

Slit nods, not really knowing what to do. 

“Joe’s dead,” Nux says, licking his scarred lips. “Angharad too.”

Slit’s lips purse, eyes flaring. Nux seems to notice, as he flinches away.

“S’ okay, Nuts.” Slit returns, pressing his hand to Nux’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Nux smiles slightly, and Slit thinks he dies a little. His head falls onto the fingers gracing his shoulder.

“Gonna sleep, Slit” he mumbles “m’ tired”

Slit nods, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“That’s okay too, Nuts. Gotta rest sometime.”

They stay like that until Nux’s breath faltered, head lolling back. When the time came, Slit cupped his hand under Nux’s chin and lifted his head. He pressed a kiss to his pale cheek and pressed their forehead’s together. 

And for the first time since he was a pup, Slit let’s himself cry.

“Traitor.”


End file.
